I pulled on my favorite jeans, added a brown leather belt, and a red tank top. Jump Off Jack’s tended to get hot when it was at full tilt, brick ovens rolling and the big fireplace lit. I scurried to the bathroom to do something with my wet hair.
“Yikes.”
By the time I’d dried and brushed my hair and applied a little mascara to try to distract from the circles under my eyes, I was already five minutes late.
I threw phone, badge, wallet, and gun into my purse, grabbed the first socks in the drawer—black and red striped—stuffed my feet into my boots, and took off out the door.
Rain drizzled down, a sort of misty fog that soaked a person to the bone in under five minutes. I’d forgotten my jacket, but didn’t turn back. I jogged the stairs and was in the Jeep in less than a minute.
Jump Off Jack’s was busy tonight, even though it was Monday, and it looked like there were more locals than tourists. The word must be getting out about the new cook Ryder had said was so good.
Ryder. My heart picked up the beat just thinking of him.
I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. “This isn’t about Ryder. This is about work. Also, let’s hear it for waterproof mascara. Not a smudge.”
I pushed out of the car, noting a figure in a stocking cap walking down the fishing pier, ships tucked into their slips for the night casting yellow ripples of light into the bay. I strode through the drizzle across the parking lot then into the old warehouse between huge vats and past the tiny gift shop and register. The hostess at the register was with customers. She pointed me up the stairs with a nod, and I gave her a quick wave and took the stairs to the bar and restaurant above.
Heat and music and the stomach-growling smell of burgers, fries, and garlic wrapped me up so tight and nice, I closed my eyes for a second and just inhaled, enjoying the moment.
Then I strolled into the main room. What a difference a few hours made.
When I’d come by to talk to Chris, the warehouse had felt cavernous, empty. But now the knotty pine booths and rustic tables and chairs, bare wood floors between walls decorated in the Jump Off Jack’s logo, were filled with happy people. The bar that took up the left half of the room, with its truly impressive offerings of brews, had every stool and table filled, and people leaning against the walls in small clumps.
A group of Rossi boys—not all of them pale, but all of them that certain kind of vampire graceful—milled around the pool tables that took up some middle space between the bar and restaurant. Half a dozen of the Wolfe family were there too, the shades of dark hair and solid builds giving them away as relations.
Ben Rossi wore slacks and a deep blue button-down dress shirt, and Jame Wolfe, wearing a black T-shirt and faded jeans, stood shoulder to shoulder with him by a pool table, putting up a united front against both groups, whom they good-naturedly harassed.
There had always been a lot of tension between the weres and vamps in town. But Old Rossi and Granny Wolfe had made it a point that an all-out war between the two families would not be tolerated.
That didn’t mean there weren’t scuffles, fights, and the occasional permanent relocation that caused a lot of animosity and the occasional vendetta between the families. But Old Rossi and Granny Wolfe ran tight ships and kept a lid on what could be utter chaos.
Which just made Ben and Jame’s relationship that much more fraught with disaster. I’d heard there were bets on how long it would last, and who would end up being the first one killed. The two of them seemed to be taking their impending doom with cool indifference. There was a reason they were two of the best firefighters in town. They only got stronger under pressure.
Both Ben and Jame must have felt my eyes on them. They turned a look my way, Ben curious, Jame more wary. I lifted an eyebrow, asking without words if I needed to throw some weight around with their relatives, who were arguing over whose turn it was to break.
They both smiled and gave me a nod. They weren’t worried. The argument hadn’t escalated into trouble yet.
Ben glided over to Sven Rossi and shoved his shoulder. Sven shut his mouth and stepped away from Jame’s brother, Tonner Wolfe. Tonner’s lip pulled up in a snarl, but Jame, who stood so close to Ben their shoulders touched, stared down his brother.
Tonner finally looked away and Ben smirked, then took a drink of his beer. That alpha situation apparently settled, Tonner threw both hands in the air and took a step back from the table, giving Sven room. The vampire made the break and the game was on.
I scanned the rest of the faces in both halves of the room.
There were several deities in the place. Odin, who refused to go by any other name, sat at the back of the room. With his eye patch and wild gray hair, he looked every inch the eccentric chainsaw artist that he was. In the same booth, her back toward me, was the goddess Athena, or just Thena, as she chose to be called. Her hair curled long and sleek, dark as midnight against a white T-shirt that brought out the brown of her skin.
She ran the surf shop, giving lessons and renting out wetsuits, boards, and other gear year round. Surfing was just starting to pick up around here, even though the Pacific was brutally cold. To supplement that building business, she also owned a specialty tea and candle shop.
Raven, who thought it was hilarious to go by the name Crow, flirted outrageously with a pretty redhead back at the bar. He was medium built, a good-looking full-blood Siletz, with spiky, short hair and a wicked grin that got him all the women, or men, he wanted.
Lots of mortals in the room too. Many of them from around here, but a good half or so were tourists. Proof that Jump Off Jack’s was doing healthy business. Good.
I finally spotted Myra in the restaurant area, sitting sideways to me and looking my way. Jean sat across from her, giving me a huge grin, blue and red hair glowing in the light. A man sat at the table, his back to me.
This must be our hire.
I walked their way, studying what I could see of him. Tall. Probably six foot or more. Good shoulders. He shifted forward to lean elbows on the table, muscles straining the material of the Henley he wore. Change that:greatshoulders. Dark, short hair, tanned neck, hands he liked to talk with.
I knew him.
